Storm
by Cocoon02
Summary: Lightning is a soldier in the military. She failed the mission she was given, and is now in hiding among the rebellion, the very people she was fighting against. With her mental state in question, how will she handle being surrounded by people she considers the enemy? (Rated M for language and handling the topic of suicide.)
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** _Hey, so, quickly, if you somehow missed it clicking into this fanfic, this story is going to deal with some sensitive subjects such as suicide. If this is going to upset you, or begins to upset you later, I implore you to click away. I don't want anyone to get hurt. Please have a good day. *virtual hug :)*_

"Storm" is going to follow Lightning, which I haven't done very much of, but I've had a lot of fun exploring her character. I'm not planning on posting the rest of this until I finish it entirely, but I do have about five or six chapters done already, so if you want, I can post periodically instead. Just let me know! :)

I hope you enjoy this more serious fanfic.

* * *

She adjusted her grip on her gun, sweat slipping uncomfortably between her skin and the warm metal. She tried not to think too hard about whose skull the barrel was pressed up against, or what she had to do. But orders were orders.

He hadn't moved. Not when she was breaking in, not when she pulled out her gun, not when she put it to his head. He knew this was coming. He was prepared.

"It took you longer to get here than I thought," he mused, "I've been expecting you for a week."

"Well, it took us longer to find you than we thought. You went through a lot of effort to hide your wife."

"If you were married, wouldn't you do the same?"

She pushed the gun more firmly to his head, "This isn't about me."

"This isn't about me, either. It's about your government, about your order of things. You're not going to kill me because I rebel against the system, you're going to kill me because I represent everything wrong with the system."

She clicked the safety off the gun, "You won't be able to talk like that much longer."

"But there are others. This doesn't die with me. Or with the man below me, or the man below him. It lives on in every single one of your citizens. In every momentary wonder of why their lives are the way they are, if things could be different. Every child with a dream, every man or woman tired of their job."

"Stop talking," she growled, "this isn't a game."

He finally moved. He turned his head to face her, his eyes looking so blue in the darkness, calm with a fierce determination. He believed in his cause. He wasn't just prepared to die, he was willing.

"I don't have to be silent for you to kill me. I'll never be silent, too many people have heard me already."

"Dead men don't talk."

"But words live forever."

Her finger shook on the trigger. She could shoot him now, right between the eyes, and silence his damn mouth forever. She should. She had to.

She took a breath.

"Daddy?"

They both looked to the door. She guessed the child to be at least three years of age. She rubbed one of her eyes sleepily, dragging what looked like a Carbuncle doll.

He stood, passing her to get to his daughter. He wasn't afraid of her shooting him in front of the little girl. He was right not to, because she wouldn't. SHe lowered her gun.

He scooped his baby girl into his arms, "Is something wrong, Nora?"

Little Nora snuggled into her father, willingly dropping her toy, "My light broke..."

"Well that's no good," he said understandingly, "Why don't you go sit in the kitchen where there's some light, and I'll be out to fix your light when I'm done talking to this nice lady, okay?"

The girl looked over his shoulder at her with innocent little green eyes. She nodded, and he put her down, making sure she had her doll, "I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too, Daddy," Nora murmured, then toddled out.

Once the child was out of earshot, he turned back to her, gesturing as if to say, "Your move."

She kept her gun gripped firmly in her hand, though she didn't want to raise it quite yet, "I didn't know you had a child."

"Children," he corrected, "Her younger brother is due in a few weeks. But don't worry about them, they have plenty of other father figures to help raise them after you kill me."

That was a challenge.

She had to kill him. It was her job. She didn't join the army to be soft on rebels, especially one of their strongest leaders. Besides, if she didn't, she would bring shame to her family. She'd never be able to go home again, if her superiors didn't have her killed before she even got the chance to consider it. This was the most important mission of her life, she couldn't back out now.

* * *

 _She huddled with her younger sister under their parents' bed. The loud sounds had stopped a few minutes ago, but she didn't think they were safe yet. Her sister clung tight to her, for once not asking a million questions. They were both very afraid, but she had to be strong. Daddy told her to._

 _There was a shuffling sound, and they retreated further under the bed. The bedroom door opened._

 _"Girls?"_

 _Little did they know, it would be the last time they saw their father alive._

* * *

 _Always fight for what you feel is right,_ she thought, recalling something her father told her very often, _listen to your heart._

Her heart wouldn't let her put Nora in the same position she and her sister had been.

Never breaking eye contact with him, she clicked the safety back on her gun, and holstered it.

His eyes smiled a little, but the rest of him remained deadly serious, "If you don't kill me, you can't go back."

"I know."

"We can protect you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** So...remember when I said I wasn't going to post more until I finished this story? If you don't, that's okay, because the story isn't finished. However, I do have a decent chunk done, so I'm presenting to you: Chapter 1 of Storm!

* * *

She woke up in the infirmary - again. Very groggy, she could just make out two separate voices somewhere near her.

"So who do we have here?"

"Her name is Claire Farron, Dr. Raines. She was admitted two days ago after her third suicide attempt."

"Third?"

"Yes, sir. She had a mental breakdown about four months ago, that was the first time she tried."

"I see."

She groaned a bit louder than necessary in order to shut them up. It worked. She slowly opened her eyes to the silence and saw the doctor sending her nurse away. Good. The nurses were irritating.

Dr. Raines was a new face, though. After noting his long - for a man - black hair and analytical grey eyes, she saw that he wasn't wearing any kind of uniform. He was dressed casually, almost like a civilian. Though he did have the tattoo worn by every rebel, located on the outside of the left wrist. He took a seat beside her bed, clearly waiting for her to speak first.

She obliged, but she didn't want to look at him any longer, so she kept her eyes trained on a lantern hanging on the ceiling, swaying slightly from air coming through an open window on the other side of the room, "Must be a pretty shitty doctor, don't even have a uniform," she cringed at the sound of her voice, hoarse from disuse.

Dr. Raines chuckled, "I'm afraid I'm not that kind of doctor. I think you comprehend my meaning."

She sighed. They finally sent a damn shrink after her, great. "Look, I don't need you to tell me what's wrong with me. I know which screws are loose, and I know why. If you want to help, you'll leave and let me die."

She heard his chair creak, as though he were leaning back in it, "Alright, fine, if that's what you want."

"Tsk. You really are a shit doctor."

"Maybe, but that's not the issue here."

She rolled her eyes, already tired of this conversation, "Then what is the issue, if you're so smart?"

He huffed amusement through his nose and answered, "You don't really want to die."

She turned her eyes to him, glaring at what she interpreted to be a smug expression, "How the hell did you get that from three suicide attempts?"

He leaned forward again, folding his hands with his elbows on his knees, "You're not stupid. If you really wanted to die, you would be dead."

Quickly becoming angry, she mustered the strength to sit up, intending to rebuke him, but that was a massive mistake. She was instantly light-headed, and overcome with nausea. Dr. Raines gently pushed her back down to her pillow, "Please, don't. I understand your anger, but you lost a lot of blood. I realize now it was a mistake to speak with you so soon."

"It was a mistake to speak with me at all," she wanted to say. But it was all she could do to not vomit all over him. She kept her eyes closed, focusing on the bile crawling up her throat.

The gentle pressure of the doctor's hands eventually left her shoulders; he must've figured she wouldn't try something so stupid again. She heard him sigh, and then footsteps as he left the short-term recovery room, currently empty except for her. The door clicked shut.

Once she was confident she wouldn't hurl all over the sheets, she rolled over onto her side, seeking small relief from the awakening aches and pains of her self-abuse and lying in the same position for two days.

That Raines was a joke. Who was he to come into her room and tell her what she did or didn't want? He didn't know the first damn thing about her.

She shoved one arm under her pillow - the one without the tube in it - and buried herself in the only friendly thing in this place.

"Son of a bitch," she muttered into the feathers.

* * *

 _"We can protect you."_

 _"How? They'll be looking for me. I'll end up getting everyone killed."_

 _He smirked, "Isn't that your goal, anyway? Don't worry, I know just the place to send you."_

 _She crossed her arms, "That doesn't sound good."_

 _"I sent my little brother and his family out there. Trust me, the only place safer than there is where we're going next."_

* * *

The next time she woke, a familiar shaggy-headed, blue-eyes, annoying moron had taken Dr. Raines' place.

She groaned, "What do you want, Noel?"

Noel smiled, moving from the chair to the side of her bed, "Hey, you're awake."

"No shit, what do you want?"

He chuckled, "Still the same you, I see. This third chance at life hasn't changed you a bit."

"Getting another chance wasn't the point," she growled, "What do you _want_?"

Noel finally dropped his friendly dumbass act, "I wanted to see how you were doing. My brother told me to keep an eye on you, so here I am."

She turned her head away from him, the farthest away she could get for now, "If it weren't for your brother, I wouldn't be here."

"You didn't have to accept his offer for protection. You could've run, or gone home."

"Yeah? Well that was a stupid decision on my part, wasn't it?"

Noel sighed, "I'm not having this conversation with you again," he paused for quite a while, but she couldn't enjoy the silence. And then he said, "I heard they gave you to Raines."

She flipped back to him, fuming, " _Gave_ me to him?"

"Okay, bad choice of words. How do you feel about 'assigned'?"

"Not any better."

"Light, you need help."

She was really starting to feel confined in this damn bed, "What I need is for you people to leave me the hell alone."

Noel hung his head a little and sighed, "One day you're going to realize that there are more people than just your sister that care about you," almost as if to prove it, he pulled something out from his pocket and placed it on the table next to her. She wouldn't look at it, she didn't want to give him the satisfaction, "Ivy made this for you. She doesn't want you to be sick anymore," then he stood and left, in a similar style to Dr. Raines.

The small part of her that hadn't hardened against everyone and everyone else felt bad for how she treated Noel, really. He was a good person, but goddess he grated on her nerves. She didn't need any friends, she didn't want any friends.

Her mind's eye flicked to the table, with a small mental blur where Ivy's present probably was. The delicate thing was just a year older than her cousin Nora, with her mother's face and her father's eyes. Her hair was the most captivating thing about her, somehow a...translucent brown. She had to admit, she cared about the little girl's feelings. Not even the most cold-blooded, ruthless killer could resist her. She reached over to grab the object, which felt cold and smooth. Probably a rock.

But when she brought it into her sight, she saw that it was a bullet casing. Where the hell did she get this? She turned it over in her fingers. Someone - probably Noel - had attached it to a string so she could wear it. Ivy had painted all over the casing, most of it was just doodles, but she did make out the rebel's brand. Crudely done, of course, but it was a difficult symbol to draw anyway. A little more searching actually brought a hint of a smile to her face.

The little girl had drawn a lightning bolt.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** I'm glad you guys seem to be liking this story so far! _Storm_ is very important to me, it's been a good way to explore a different kind of writing, and more significantly, a way to explore deeply into Lightning's character. She can be more than just a female Cloud Strife, more than the cold, emotionless goddess Square Enix turned her into.

Claire "Lightning" Farron is a person.

With that, here's chapter two!

* * *

It wasn't until two days later that her nurse finally removed the tube from her arm. It was a huge relief, even though she had hardly felt it the past few days. She rubbed the spot where it had been once her arm was freely hers again, thinking that if they kept sticking needles in her, she could pass as a drug addict.

Now if only they'd take the bandages off.

She looked up at her nurse as she packed up whatever equipment she'd been attached to, "Does this mean I can leave, now?"

Miss Nice Nurse shook her head, "Not quite yet."

She snorted, "What? Do you have to strip-search me first to make sure I'm not sneaking out all those pills you gave me?"

She was being sarcastic, but what she got in return was a look of such disgustingly sincere concern that she couldn't help but add, "I'm joking. I'm not hoarding any pills, I was a good patient."

It seemed to make the nurse feel better, anyway, "Well, I'm going to change your bandages, and by then Dr. Raines should be here to get you."

A beat of silence.

"Excuse me?"

The nurse gestured for her to be patient, and then left. Probably to get the fresh bandages. In the meantime, her blood reached its boiling point. First they stick her with an eagle-eyed bunk mate, along with Noel keeping tabs on her, and now _this?_ Was that crackpot supposed to be her _escort_ , too?

At this rate, her next attempt would be on _someone else's_ life.

A different kind of relief came whenever she got her bandages changed. It was less of a sense of freedom as it was like being released from a smothering pillow.

Of course, the pillow always came back.

Right on cue, Dr. Raines walked through the door. This time, instead of just his assumptions, he brought a bag with him. She recognized it immediately as her bunk mate's, and was suspicious. He placed it beside her bed as her nurse left for what would hopefully be the last time.

"I asked Fang to pick out some clothes for you," Raines explained before she could ask, "I figured you wouldn't want to leave in that thing."

Of course not. The poor excuse for a nightgown she was wearing was practically made of paper. It was uncomfortable and chafed anywhere it had contact with her skin. Worst of all, it was so damn thin that she might as well have been naked. Of course she wanted real clothes. But she had to wonder, "What about the ones I was wearing?"

"The level of blood saturation caused them to stick to your body," he said factually, "they had to be cut off."

Well, that sucked.

She reached into the bag, already appreciating the more durable fabric. She dropped the clothes into her lap and said, "Out."

He left.

She was currently the only patient in short-term, so she didn't have to worry about anyone else seeing her. She disrobed, smirking at the fact that, indeed, being naked was the same as wearing those dress-up clothes.

She was pretty sure those were Fang's underwear, but whatever.

Her bunk mate might have been a bit out of left field sometimes, but she had never been grateful for her until she pulled out the shirt Fang had picked out for her. Long sleeves. Donning it, she indulged in the childish desire to hide her bandages, pulling the sleeves up past her thumbs.

She was fully dressed before she remembered her new accessory, which she'd hidden under her pillow for fear it would be mistaken for trash and pitched. Or worse, collected, melted, and pressed into new ammunition. She grabbed Ivy's present and slipped it over her head, tucking it under her shirt for safekeeping. The metal was bitingly cold against her breasts; she imagined herself slowly turning to ice and then shattering. She slung the now empty bag over her shoulder, contemplating just staying put until Raines' curiosity got the better of him, but decided against it. She wanted out of this hellhole as soon as possible.

Once in the hallway, she was Dr. Raines talking to a woman whom she initially assumed was another nurse, until her own memory proved her wrong. The woman was one of the doctors. Her name was...Katzroy. Dr. Something Katzroy. She remembered Dr. Katzroy from...last time.

Last time, she had mostly failed at shooting herself. Her own body had chickened out at the last second, and somehow the bullet ended up in her leg. The dark-skinned woman had been the one holding the knife, speaking calmly to her throughout the surgery. She was a little ashamed to even admit to herself the real reason the remembered the doctor: her skin. She supposed, though, that it was only logical. The rest of the staff was white.

Raines nodded goodbye to the _real_ doctor, and turned to her. His face was just as unreadable as last time, but she didn't care. Let him think what he wanted. She was only going to deal with him until she figured out how to ditch him for good.

"I'm glad to see how you've recovered," he said, "Not to worry, I'm not going to analyze you today, I'm just here to take you home."

She crossed her arms, throwing him an icy glare, "I don't need a babysitter."

"On the contrary," he disagreed, "Although 'babysitter' is a bit of a rough term. You need someone to look after you, whether you like it or not."

She was tempted to strike him, but she wouldn't let him have the pleasure of getting a rise out of her, "I already have Fang and Noel tailing my ass every day, what good are you going to do? And why do you people even _care_ if I live or not?"

Raines frowned. It was a subtle movement, gone before she could blink, but it was a jarring change from his usual blank canvas.

"We believe everyone deserves to decide their fate. Your government forbids this, shepherding the people along predestined paths, permitting no room for error," he paused, and something behind his eyes shifted, softening them momentarily. After a few seconds, they returned to stone, "That's why you're here, is it not? Because you took a step off of the path they gave you?"

She grunted, tightening her grip on the bag's strap to the point she imagined her veins would burst from the pressure.

Raines lifted his wrist as if to check a watch. He gazed solemnly at his mark, "Even here among the insurgents, we are slaves. To a point," he looked at her again, "We wish to keep as many people alive as we can to see the end of the war, to finally taste freedom."

She put herself within point-blank range, looking up at him with enough fury to burn down a village, "If your leader hadn't sent me here, I would have died quietly four months ago, on my own terms."

He raised his eyebrows slightly, "Estheim didn't send you anywhere, he merely offered you protection."

"He knew I didn't have a choice!" she growled.

"If you had the capability to end your life on your terms as you said, then I believe you did have a choice."

Seconds later, she was halfway down the hall, doing her best to ignore the grating sound of his footsteps behind her.

Bastard.

* * *

 _"Name?"_

 _"Claire Farron."_

 _Clackety-clatter...click._

 _"Your family is Snow and Serah Villiers, correct?"_

 _"Yes, sir. My brother-in-law is a doctor, and my sister is a teacher."_

 _"Do they know you're here?"_

 _Nod._

 _"Yes, sir."_


	4. Chapter 4

The next few days passed at a half-frozen flan's pace. Dr. Raines had dropped her off at "home" with the promise that if she was still alive after a week, he'd be by to see her. She was dreading their next encounter more than she'd ever admit. She didn't need someone getting into her head and figuring out how she worked. No, more than that, she didn't _want_ it.

But it was too late. She was out of time.

Fang woke her up that morning with a good old-fashioned _thump_ to the head, "Time to get up, Sunshine. We've gotta make sure you eat before your shrink comes along and accuses me of not feeding you."

She waved the prying vulture away, mumbling into her pillow, "He's not my shrink, and my name isn't Sunshine."

"Right. Lightning. Whatever," Fang shook her slightly, "Come on, breakfast is getting cold."

While Lightning would much rather have stayed in bed and starved than get up and have to talk to Raines - or Fang for that matter - she knew she would never get away with it. So, reluctantly, she got up, yanked on the first pair of pants she touched, (which were probably the ones she wore the day before, she couldn't remember) and shuffled the three steps it took to get to the main room.

Unlike the cramped barracks she was used to, she and Fang didn't have to share their space with thirty other women. Although the compound had plenty of soldiers - Fang included - it was meant more for soldiers' families. Because of this, where they lived was more of a flat than a bunk. There were three rooms: the bedroom, the bathroom, and the kitchen/living room. It was as small as it sounded, but that never bothered Lightning...much.

Lightning wasn't someone who needed a lot of space, but she would have appreciated a little breathing room. She and Fang practically slept together every night; there was only three feet of space between their beds, which were bolted down and couldn't be moved. There was also no lock on the bathroom door. This wasn't usually a problem, but Fang liked to take showers in the dark when she had a headache, and often spent up to an hour afterwards just sitting on the floor, in the dark, naked, waiting for the pain to alleviate enough to be bearable. Lightning had walked in on her on more than one face-reddening occasion.

Plopping herself down on one of the not-bolted-down-unlike-everything-else-somehow chairs, she crossed her arms on the cold metal table and buried her face in the sleeves of her hoodie. Noel had given it to her on her birthday last month - completely coincidentally, she hadn't told anyone here when her birthday was. It was just as boring and grey as everything else around her, but it was comfortable and smelled faintly of grass.

She heard a small _tink_ as Fang placed her bowl in front of her, "Eat," the soldier commanded.

She'd still be a soldier if she wasn't so soft.

Lightning rose to a bowl of the same thing they ate every day. Mush. Mush, and some kind of brightly colored fruit. The fruit used to be an almost welcome sight, with it's pastel pinks and subtle oranges, but now it was just as bland as the blank walls. As for the must, she knew it was some kind of oat or grain, but it tasted more like piss.

She ate, if only to appease the vulture.

Fang slurped up her serving of mush like she hadn't eaten in a month, her naturally tangled ebony hair dripping from behind her shoulders slowly until it thickly framed her face. When she saw Fang, Lightning often became very conscious that her own hair was pink. Naturally. In fact, it was brighter when she was a child. It wasn't as uncommon as it sounded, but her having pink hair had approximately the same statistical probability as her being left-handed*. Sometimes she wished she had gotten the latter, at least being left-handed wasn't so obvious.

Fang took a large bite of her fruit and stared at Lightning while she chewed. Barely remembering to swallow, she finally asked, "Sunshine, do you hate me? I need to know."

Lightning looked up from her mush, a bit taken aback by the question. What did Fang care? The sincere look in her bunk mate's face answered that. She did care, and she really wanted to know.

Damnit.

She looked back down at her mush, and twisted her spoon through what was left, "No, I don't hate you, and my name isn't Sunshine."

She could practically hear Fang rolling her eyes, and she really did hear her _thunk_ the fruit back on the table, "Sunshine, Lightning, what's the difference? They both burn shit, don't they?" her face softened, "Anyway, I mean it. Do you hate me?"

Lightning took a spoonful of mush, "I really don't hate you. Why do you need to know, anyway?"

Before Fang could answer, there was a knock at the door.

Shit.

Fang smirked at her, temporarily dropping the subject, and got up to answer the door, "Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in. A dead bird."

"Hello to you too, Sergeant."

His voice was as cold and patronizing as she remembered, which only made her more adamantly refuse to look up from her food. Fang was a Sergeant? Small world.

Lightning used to be one, too.

"So what brings you here?" Fang asked dryly, "Calling on two stunningly beautiful women like us so early in the morning? Scandalous."

Goddess, the woman was off her rocker.

"I'm afraid I'm only here for your friend. Though I must say, she's at least twice as beautiful as you are."

He was playing _along_?

"Whatever, jackass. Come on in, she's finishing her breakfast."

Lightning felt them approaching her, and tried not to hunch down even more over her bowl. Fang sat back down, which forced Dr. Raines to stand. They only had two chairs, a fact that she was suddenly very grateful for.

She had approximately two bites of mush left. A little creative scooping could make it four. But what was the point? It wasn't going to take her three hours to eat a few mouthfuls of mush. Besides, he was probably expecting her to stall. Refusing to prove him right, she ate the rest in one big gulp.

Lightning kept her expression neutral as she looked back up at them. Fang gathered their dishes and went about washing them. Before she had even left the table, Lightning was on her feet, not allowing Raines the time to get the idea that it was okay to sit at their table.

He looked like he was trying way too hard to stand casually. His body language was stiff, like he wasn't quite sure how to stand informally. This surprised her a little; the first thing to being a good shrink was making sure people can be comfortable with you. If she were meeting him for the first time, she wouldn't believe he was a real shrink.

She'd met him before, and she still didn't believe it.

Raines nodded at her slightly, "How are you?"

She crossed her arms, "Not dead. Just like you want me."

"That's good," he shifted his weight to the other foot, "I know you don't want to do this, so I want to make this as easy for you as possible. We can go down to my office or, if you prefer," he made a wide gesture to the room, "we can stay here."

"Staying here might be better," Fang chimed in, starting on the final dish already, "I'm outta here in five minutes, you'd have the place to yourselves."

Lightning half-rolled her eyes. She didn't want to be alone with him anywhere, but especially not here. Here he would be able to silently judge her based on their living space, which was exactly the opposite of a good thing. So she said firmly, "Let's go to your office."

Rained nodded, "As you wish. Is there anything you need to do before we go?"

Lightning was about to shake her head, but then she remembered, "Yeah, hold on," and went back to the bedroom.

She'd nearly forgotten Ivy's present.

* * *

 ***Fun fact: I, Cocoon02, am left-handed. Anyone else? I'm curious.**

 **(Also, if you could let me know what you think of the story so far, that would be super! *does that prayer symbol thing Vanille does except they got rid of it in LR and I am so mad about that 'cause it was really cool*)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** Hi! This one's a little shorter, but do not fret! The next one is pretty darn long, so it'll even out. Also, I've never spoken to a professional, so if Lightning's conversation with Cid is kinda dumb, that's why.

Enjoy!

* * *

Raines' office, wasn't really an office. It was more of a living room. Sure, there was a desk, but its chair was on the other side of the room, and its surface was so cluttered that she feared for anyone he was treating for OCD. Other than that, there were two full-length couches facing each other in the center of the room, and three windows on the far wall - through which the sun shone and only illuminated his disorganization.

He closed the door behind them, and nodded to the couches. "Go ahead and take a seat."

Lightning did just that. The couch was disgustingly comfortable, more so than anything else in the entire compound. She shrugged further into her sweater, trying not to enjoy it. If she enjoyed it, that meant she was okay with being here, which she most certainly was _not_.

Raines sat across from her, and she decided that he was better at casually sitting than standing. He folded his hands together. "Alright, Claire, let's start simple."

"Before we do," she interrupted, "it's not Claire, it's Lightning."

He gave her a slightly curious look, which she returned with a cold stare. She knew she had just given him more ammunition to use against her, but this was necessary. Claire died nearly twenty years ago. If he was going to give her shit for it, that was fine. She'd heard it all before.

Instead of asking, "Why have you dropped your given name?" he just shrugged a little. "As you wish. For the sake of fairness, why don't you call me Cid, instead of Doctor Raines? Formalities are quite overrated."

"Whatever."

She heard him sigh very quietly, then his eyes fell to her chest. "May I ask why you're wearing a shell around your neck?"

Lightning looked down and saw the trinket clearly displayed. Damn, she thought she'd hidden it. She quickly stuffed it inside her sweater and answered blandly, "It was a gift."

"From a friend?"

The image of little Ivy came to Lightning's mind, and she wondered how such an innocent little flower was born in this hell. Then she deflated, upon realizing that war was all Ivy knew. She didn't know anything beyond this dreary compound, her friends were soldiers' children, she would have no schooling beyond what her mother could teach her. It wasn't fair. She had so much joy, but it would be wasted fighting a war that wasn't hers.

"Or from family, perhaps? Like your sister?"

Quicker than her namesake, she rose and struck him across the face, making her bad wrist worse. Or her good wrist bad. Whichever. Whatever. She'd slit them both.

The angry red mark she'd left on his face was nearly as satisfying as the power she put behind it. For all of five seconds. Quickly muttering, "Don't talk about my sister," she sat back down, hating herself. She'd overreacted. A lot. Not only that, but she'd inadvertently shown him probably her most sensitive button. Godsdamnit.

Cid didn't appear fazed at all by the assault, but she could tell that he made note of it. He readjusted his position, leaning more forward toward her and resting his elbows on his knees. "Alright, I won't talk about your sister. So let's talk about you. What's your favorite color?"

She knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to get her comfortable with spilling her guts to him by asking stupid-ass kindergarten questions. It wouldn't work. She didn't trust him, she didn't trust his questions.

She answered anyway, just so she could leave faster. "Blue."

"Any particular shade?"

"Not really," she lied.

"Do you have a favorite food?"

"Anything non-military," which was mostly true, partially sarcasm.

"How do you like living with Fang?"

"It's marginally better than being in the hospital."

"I'm sure she's much better company."

"She stabs me with needless less."

"I've never been a fan of needles myself."

* * *

The entire session went like that, a whole hour and a half of questions someone in a bar might ask her. It looked harmless from the outside, but she knew what he was doing. Playing the field, gathering information, trying to find the best ways to push her.

When Fang came home that night, Lightning was lounging in her bed, absentmindedly braiding her hair in front of her face, trying to block out her meeting with Cid. She used to braid Serah's hair all the time, she was pretty good at it.

Fang smirked when she saw her, and then immediately turned around and started changing into her casual clothes, "How'd it go?"

Unsatisfied with her work, Lightning brushed out the braid with her fingers. "I hit him."

Fang laughed the way she imagined a cat would as she exchanged her uniform pants for more comfortable ones. "Good for you. Someone oughta take that bastard down a peg. What'd he say?"

Lightning shook her head, starting a new, more complex braid. "Nothing. He just asked what my favorite color was."

"Tsk. Typical." Fang hung the top of her uniform neatly beside her pants, then sat on the edge of her own bed. "Look, I'll be the first to admit that the doc's a nutcase, but can you at least try to talk to him?"

Swiftly becoming irrationally defensive, Lightning dropped her braid entirely and sat up. "I don't need some self-proclaimed doctor telling me what he _thinks_ is wrong with me. Why can't you people just let me deal with my own issues?"

Fang closed the (extremely small) gap between them and grabbed her arms. She made a show of pulling up her sleeves, and then gently holding her by her still-bandaged wrists. Her green eyes looked into Lightning's blue ones very seriously. "Because your way of dealing with things sucks."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Oh boy, has it been a while. Sorry! Didn't mean to take this long. (authors never do, do we?) But I have a good excuse! I'm in the process of rewriting Connected By Dreams, my first-ever fanfic. If you're interested, I just posted chapter 6 yesterday, and it's called Rebirth: Connected By Dreams. It's essentially the same as the original, but much higher quality, and with some plot holes patched up. I'm really proud of it, so it would mean a lot to me if you gave it a read and maybe left a review!

But not until you read this, first!

* * *

Lightning woke the next morning with a nasty, dry, sticky taste in her mouth. In the same breath - very literally - she realized that it was _freezing_. She groaned and pulled her blanket over her head, deciding to wait until Fang forced her to get up to face the cold. But she was met with silence.

She ventured a peek and saw that her roommate wasn't in bed. Judging by the quiet, she wasn't in the flat at all. Which meant there was a note.

Whenever Fang had to leave before Lightning woke up - or before _she_ decided to wake Lightning up - she always left a note explaining where and why she left. Usually it was just for an early patrol, so Lightning did not waste energy hurrying to read it.

She did, however, take a shower. She still needed to wash the shrink stench off of her skin. Fortunately, both of the water's two temperature options would suffice for that purpose: scalding hot and freezing cold. She went with the former, understanding that the cold would be even harsher when she stepped out.

Lightning had begun the habit of closing her eyes during her showers. A common enough practice, but she wasn't just trying to save herself from tricky soap, she was avoiding her scars (though she'd never admit it). Aside from the self-induced scars from her blade and bullet, she had plenty to be proud of, ones gained in the heat of battle, saving comrades or defending civilians. She couldn't be proud anymore. She was ashamed. She had betrayed her men, her superiors, her family, when she refused to pull the trigger. No amount of scalding could burn that away.

As soon as she opened the shower door, the cold shocked her to the core, knocked the air from her lungs. Clenching her teeth so much she pictured her jaw shattering, and as her hair turned to icicles, she got dressed as quickly as she could. Damn hygiene. At least before the shower her hair wasn't a lethal weapon.

Once dry - and not at all warmer - she went into the main room to read Fang's note. Just as she suspected, it was on the table, littered with her roommate's hasty scrawl:

 _Sunshine,_

 _Got called in for a mission,  
sorry. You're gonna stay with  
Noel until I get back, be ready  
by ten._

 _-Fang_

Damnit.

Lightning sighed, and tossed the note in the trash. Great. Noel. For days, potentially weeks. This was _not_ going to be fun.

Although, she would probably be spending a lot of her time with Ivy, which wouldn't be the end of the world. Except for the fact that she and her mother were so damn nice that it made her uncomfortable. Was it so hard to just _frown_ every once and a while?

It was with the attitude of looking at a test grade that she glanced at the clock. 9:18. Throwing some clothes in a bag _might_ take ten minutes, so she essentially had a half an hour to herself.

She decided to write a letter.

Before sending her here, Hope Estheim had told her that if she wanted to get a message to her family, all she had to do was write it, and he would get it to them. She said no, she'd rather not.

But she wrote the letter anyway.

She had several of them, stuffed under her mattress so not even she could see them. In each and every one, she apologized profusely to her sister. Sometimes she rambled on for pages, raging about Estheim and his damn rebellion, telling her that it was his fault, really. Sometimes she only wrote a few words. "I'm sorry." "I love you."

This time, she didn't know what to say.

 _Serah,_

She stared at the empty page for a long time, trying to find the words.

 _I saw the shrink for the first time yesterday. Damn fool doesn't  
know what he's talking about._

She took a minute or two to steel herself before admitting:

 _I hit him for talking about you._

She crumpled the paper into a ball, and threw it in the trash along with Fang's note. Serah didn't need to know that. She was enough of a disappointment as it was.

Very shortly after that, there was a knock at the door. Noel, she assumed, and early. Fine. The sooner she went over there, the sooner she could get this over with.

"Good morning." He said as she opened the door.

"Right."

"Are you ready?"

"If I have to be," Lightning crossed her arms, "Did Fang say how long she'd be gone?"

Noel shrugged. "No, but she's only out for retrieval. Dr. Katzroy's husband went MIA a few months ago, and they finally found him. He and Fang are buddies, so they sent her out there to make everything easier for him. She'll probably be back in three, four days tops."

Lightning nodded. Three days she could handle. She'd been in battled that lasted longer than that. She was worried she'd have to stay there for weeks.

Noel smiled his obnoxiously friendly smile and said, "Well, what are we waiting for? Ivy's been dying to see you."

* * *

"Miss Lightning!" Ivy exclaimed, wrapping her short little arms around Lightning's legs with giggly excitement.

Lightning smiled for her, and picked her up while Noel set her bag on a chair. "Hey, squirt. How have you been?"

"Good!" Ivy chirped. "Are you better now?"

"Am I better?"

The little girl nodded. "Daddy said you got sick."

"Don't ask her about that, sweetheart," Noel lectured, "that's private."

Lightning shook her head. "No, it's okay." She looked Ivy in the eye and answered, "I'm still kinda sick, but don't worry, I have a doctor looking after me," she gently brushed some of Ivy's silky brown hair behind her ear, "and you won't catch it, I promise."

"Okay!" Ivy said. She gave Lightning a childishly tight hug, then wiggled until she was let down. The little pixie scampered off with no explanation.

Noel chuckled. "Excuse her, she's excited." He picked her bag up again and nodded further into their home. "Come on, I'll show you where you'll be staying."

She'd been here two or three times before, but she'd forgotten how much nicer it was. Of course, it was just as grey and drab underneath all of the decoration, but it was so much _bigger_. That wasn't a surprise either, families need more space, but it threw her off. Every other place here felt cramped, but right now she could actually breathe.

Their front room was the same - just a bit bigger. The same went for their bathroom. Beyond that, there was a vaguely short hallway that contained three doors. The one to their left, Noel informed her, led to the main bedroom where all three of them slept. "We keep meaning to put Ivy in the other room by herself," he explained, "but Yeul keeps putting it off. She feels safer when we're all together." A door at the very end hid a small storage closet, and the third door to its immediate right was a second bedroom, where she'd be staying.

The first thing she noticed when they entered the room was Yeul. Her long, delicate silvery hair was done up in a loose braid, and she was wearing civilian clothes that were probably two sized too big for her. Neither of those things were particularly surprising, but what caught her eye was the rebel's brand tattooed on her left wrist, just like everyone else. She hadn't realized the young mother was a part of the cause. She hated the so-called cause even more in that moment, roping innocent people into their futility.

And she was stuck with them.

Yeul was fussing with the bed, so she didn't notice them enter. Noel smirked mischievously and stalked up behind her, giving her sides a sharp poke. His poor wife jumped, squeaking like a mouse. She turned around and smacked him on the arm. "Noel! You scared me half to death!"

He - of course - was laughing, and while his prank made Lightning roll her eyes, it also made her miss her family very acutely. Snow had pulled the same kind of antics with Serah all the time. It was tricky, he was a big guy, so the element of surprise was nearly always out of his reach; but that never mattered to Serah, she let him think he'd surprised her. She loved that lug so much...

Lightning gripped her left wrist very tightly, skin chafing against her bandages.

"Sorry, I just wanted you to know that Claire's here."

She glowered at him.

Yeul finally noticed her, and a wide smile spread across her thin face. "Hey! I know it's not your first choice to be here, but I'm glad you're staying with us."

Lightning swallowed her urge to belt back a sarcastic retort. It was completely unnecessary. Instead, she offered a hopefully very fake-looking smile. "Thanks for taking me in. I don't know what they'd do with me otherwise."

That was a lie. She knew exactly what would happen: they would send her back to "The Inn". It was where they put the overflow, refugees, or large families who refused to be separated. There were plenty of soldiers there, too. Some people called it, "The Misfit Barn," but those were snobby higher-ups who'd probably never seen a battle in their lives. Lightning had lived in The Inn for a while before they placed her with Fang. She had her first panic attack there.

Yeul seemed to either ignore or not pick up on her attitude, and put an arm around her goofball of a husband. "Well, make yourself at home. We had Ivy move her toys into our bedroom, so she won't bother you if you shut the door. We'll have lunch in about two hours, but if you're hungry now you're welcome to anything in the kitchen."

Her voice had a sickeningly sweet and chipper tone to it, as if she'd never been hurt in her life. Lightning wondered how deep that facade went; no one got here without a few cuts and bruises. No matter, she nodded anyway, not planning at all to use their kitchen.

Noel smiled at them, his grin more subdued and slightly less annoying than usual. "We'll get out of your way so you can settle in."

"Right."

Her mouth twitched in a half-assed attempt at a smile as they left, giving up on expression completely after she shut the door behind them. She picked up her bag and tossed it in the small-but-still-bigger-than-hers closet before sitting very uncouthly on a bed both familiar and alien. A high-pitched squeal of laughter pierced her ears, and she thought again about how unfair it was for Ivy to grow up here.

It was going to be a very long three days.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Okay, so, this is the last chapter I have written that's finished.

"What?" I hear you say. "But it's been so long since you updated!"

Yeah, I know, but college kinda sucks. And I'll be honest, this fandom is pretty dead, so it feels like I'm writing these for myself. Is anyone out there? Are people still reading these?

Well, here's to you, silent 13 fans that are hopefully reading this.

* * *

 _"Where's my dad?"_

 _"I'm here to help you, Claire, calm down."_

 _"I don't care why you're here, I want my dad!"_

* * *

Lightning found herself almost relieved as she knocked on the door to Raines' office. Him she could deal with, but if one more person sincerely smiled at her, she was going to scream.

Thankfully, Raines wasn't smiling when he opened the door. He was ready to get down to business. Good. Hopefully this time he wouldn't pull questions from his ass.

He greeted her with, "Good morning, Lightning. Come on in."

She did so, pulling her right sleeve back over her hand and parking herself on the opposite sofa this time. She wore the sweater again, but made sure that Ivy's necklace was out of sight. Wouldn't want to make that mistake again.

Rained took his spot across from her, analyzed her for probably the hundredth time. She tried to be as casual as possible, but she probably looked stiff and bitchy. Whatever.

"So," he finally said, "how was your first day with the Kreiss family?"

She shrugged. "Fine. I have my own space for once."

Raines offered her a smile, which she did not accept. It came off as hollow and fake. "That's a bit of a luxury these says," he said, "isn't it?"

"Sure."

The two of them sat in silence for a short while, during which her mind traveled to her old home. She wondered what happened after she left. Surely she'd been reported dead, killed in the line of duty. That lie would cover a lot of asses, but what had it done to her sister? She was Serah's rock, her beacon. Sure, Snow shouldered some off that now too, but he'd never be able to compete with her. She'd been through so much with Serah. The fresh thought of being away from her made her wrists ache, and she hated herself.

"The last time we met," Raines said suddenly, "we spoke quite a bit about you. I thought that this time, I could return the favor and tell you about me."

Lightning looked up at him coldly, at once very aware of the bullet casing resting against her chest. She didn't give two shits about him, and cared even less if he knew about her. She would almost prefer Yeul's painfully bright smile.

"Whatever."

Rained didn't move from his sitting position, didn't even blink as he started. "My name is Cid Raines. I grew up in the capitol, but since I was raised by a closet rebel, my mother, I never respected the government or how it was run. However, my father was a government official, so we kept our beliefs between us.

"I originally joined this group as a soldier, the minute a turned eighteen. For six months, I made my mother prouder than she had ever been," he shifted uncomfortable, rubbing his tattoo, "but then she died, killed at a demonstration. Officially, she was an innocent bystander, but my mother never stood by, given the opportunity to act.

"When I enlisted, we had told my father that I was going away to get a psychology degree, just like his father. Without my mother covering for me, I had to do just that. So I went to school for three years, studying hard to protect my father's image of his son.

"Until he died, too. Heart attack. I dropped out of school as soon as I heard, and found my old commander. I loved my father, but his wasn't a legacy to fight for. He had hundreds of us killed, ordered raids and bombings. I came here to fight for my mother, for what we believed in," he lifted the corners of his mouth, just a little, "but my three years of schooling were enough to get me out of actual combat, and I was assigned here."

Raines went quiet, but Lightning sensed he wasn't quite done. A part of her wanted to hate him for not supporting his father, for joining the people who ruined her life, for being here. A big part. But the rest of her understood. She fought for her family, for her sister. It wasn't his fault that his mother brainwashed him with her ideals.

Now she wanted to hate him for making her not want to hate him.

"I know you don't like me," Raines started again, "and I don't expect you to, but I hope you can come to trust me. I hate my job, but I really do want to help you. You just have to let me."

Lightning stared at him for a good, long time. The longer she looked, the stiffer and more awkward his posture became. Perhaps she intimidated him.

"Are we done?"

He looked at her now, too, instead of just in her direction. His eyes were the color of storm clouds: a deep, brooding grey. They seemed to stare down her pupils and into her brain. Lightning wanted to look away, but she was both frustratingly mesmerized and determined to be the last one to look away.

"We're done for today," he answered, "I'll see you again after Fang returns."

"Right."

* * *

"Miss Lightning! I can' reach it!"

Lightning looked up from her plate, which she'd barely touched. "What?"

Ivy was standing on the tips of her toes, reaching her short arms as far as they would go to one of the cabinets above the sink. "My cup!" she cried. Her little face was crumpled in the effort of trying to reach, hopping a few times in a fruitless attempt to make herself tall enough.

Lightning got up to help her, and knew immediately which one she meant. One lone purple child's cup sat brightly apart from the rest of the cups, four white, handle-less plastic mugs. She grabbed Ivy's cup and gave it to her.

Ivy held her cup carefully in her hands, happy for her victory. Lightning flickered a smile at her, and turned to go back to staring at her supper. Yeul had said she'd be back in an hour. How long ago was that?

She was stopped by the child's hand grabbers hers. Ivy was looking up at her with her big blue eyes, presenting her cup like an award. "Water, pwease?"

* * *

 _"Daddy?"_

 _"Is something wrong, Nora?"_

 _"My light broke..."_

* * *

Lightning offered her the most sincere smile she could muster. "Sure." She took the little cup and filled it only halfway, the way her father used to. When Ivy took her cup back, she said, "Now try not to spill, we don't want to make a mess."

"I won't!" Ivy chirped, practically tip-toeing back to the table. Lightning watched her, seeing Nora sitting in the chair, her legs too short to reach the floor. A stab of guilt morphed her into Serah, and their mother hummed behind her at the stove, making dinner. The kitchen smelled of slightly burnt bread as usual, giving the whole place life. Her mother could make a graveyard seem vibrant.

"Dinner's ready, girls!" she called, pulling the source of the smell from the oven, "One of you bring Daddy to the table."

"Me! Me!" Serah cried, jumping up and running for his office before Claire could even blink.

Their father looked just as he always had, hair just slightly unkempt, glasses fashionably askew, perfectly trimmed beard. His eyes smiled more than his lips ever could as he let Serah drag him to the table.

"Here, Daddy! Sit by me!"

* * *

 _"Daddy..."_

 _"It's okay, Serah... It's going to be okay..."_

* * *

Serah began wailing desperately as both of their parents dropped cold to the ground, riddled with holes from the bullets they never saw coming. Their eyes were pale and distant, blood pouring from everywhere and nowhere. "Daddy!" Serah cried, shaking his body furiously. "Daddy, wake up!"

Claire turned to help her sister, to tear her free from the pool of death creeping above her knees and wash the horror away from her forever. But she couldn't. She wasn't...

Serah's crying faded into whimpering, and her hands fell dejectedly to her sides. Her fragile little form shivered with grief, and she looked up at her big sister, "L-Lightning..." she whispered.

 _"Lightning..."_

 _"Lightning..."_

"Miss Lightning?"

Lightning blinked until the eight people before her became two, and took several seconds before realizing that the pressure she felt against her head and back was the floor. Ivy and her mother were both knelt beside her; Yeul was fanning her slightly with a washcloth. Feeling entirely too coddled, she sat up quickly, leaving her brain behind in the process.

Yeul quickly abandoned the rag and steadied her, "Easy... Ivy said you fell...what happened?"

Ivy sat back on her heels, sucking her thumb nervously. The concern in her eyes was painful.

Lightning closed her own eyes, which was a mistake, so she opened them again and stared pointedly at a small rip in her pants, "I just fell, I'm fine."

It was a weak lie, and Yeul knew it just as well as she did, but she didn't press. "Okay, well, let's get you to bed so you can rest. You're white as a sheet."

Lightning didn't fight her, yearning for empty air. Agreeing to be alone with Ivy was a bad idea, she should've known better. When she was finally alone - after curtly assuring Yeul that she would be fine - she stripped off the sweater Noel gave her and fell back onto the bed, feeling all the bumps and lumps that had already become familiar in the last two days.

Tomorrow was her last day with these people. And she wouldn't be spending it here.

Not that it was any better in that damn infirmary, but she'd be getting her bandages off for good.

Lightning brought her wrists into sight, studying the curves and folds of the gauze and thinking about how weirdly used to them she'd gotten. They weren't as oppressive anymore, not all the time, anyway. Not unless she thought about it. Like right now. She rolled her eyes at herself, and her body followed suit until she was on her side; she shoved her arms under the pillow. Just one more night, one more breakfast, and she'd be back...nowhere near home, but at least back in familiar territory, and having Fang back would be almost a relief.

She'd never admit it, but she missed the crazy bitch.


End file.
